Alive
by GuileandGall
Summary: A series of one-shots related to Remy McGinnis' WIP Free to Be. It will include flashback, backstory, and current & future timeline single pieces.
1. Flu Season

**Flu Season**

The boss never gets sick. Never. But somehow it seems she has brought back a case of the flu from one of the time slips. Matt braves what the rest of the Saints tout is a suicide mission to offer a little comfort to her. - A response to the prompt suggested by SaintsEmpressJae:

_22. What are they like when they get sick? Do they have a particular system (ears, lungs, etc) that illness gravitates to?_

**-1-**

Quick footfalls rang off the metal in the ship. No one really paid any attention to the sound. But when Shaundi landed rather forcefully against the doorjamb, everyone's attention turned to her. The overwhelming look of panic in her eyes prompted Pierce's question. "Damn, girl, what's wrong?"

"I think the boss is sick."

"Oh fuck that!" Gat replied quickly, smacking Pierce in the chest.

"I'm with ya," Washington replied, grabbing his hat and setting it on his head at a very precise angle.

The two of them started walking toward the door opposite the one Shaundi was still leaning in. But the coughing that resounded down the hallway stopped the two men dead in their tracks. The look they shared seemed to say, _Fuck, we're trapped_.

Miller was tucked up in a large chair in the corner and just chuckled at them. "Everyone gets sick. What's the big deal?"

"Not the boss," Johnny said in a grave tone.

"Remy doesn't get sick, like _ever_," Shaundi stressed.

Pierce nodded. "But when she does. You don't want to be in range."

"Trust us," Gat added with a little nod.

"I think you're just overreacting," the hacker dismissed.

"Suit yourself," Pierce replied. "But don't say we didn't warn you."

With a sneeze, Remy appeared in the doorway. Pierce almost felt bad for Matt. The boss was pale and her forehead shone with a sheen that suggested she might also be running a fever. Suddenly he was less concerned about her torturing any of them for the next few to several days and was more worried about catching whatever bug had been stupid enough to infect the boss.

Remy leaned in the doorway. "I think you guys might be on your own for a few days. Don't fucking blow up my ship," she growled. "And feel free to pretend I don't exist." With that, she spun tiredly out of the doorway and traipsed back down the hall.

"Damn, this looks like it is going to be ugly," Pierce muttered.

Matt set his handheld console aside as he stood. "I think you're all overreacting."

Johnny grabbed Miller's arm as he passed. "I'm telling you. Take her warning and avoid her until it's over, kid."

**-2-**

Matt had considered their warnings for a few minutes, but eventually his empathy won out. He pulled on his own childhood and scoured the ship for what he would need to recreate his mother's special basket. He couldn't remember precisely how that silly old wife's tale she always told him went. _Starve a cold, feed a flu, or maybe it is the other way around, _he thought recalling how often the flu made him violently ill. He decided to be prepared either way.

The tray was replete with a pot of herbal tea, all snuggled in a nice warm cozy, honey and lemon in case she had a sore throat. He counted off the list in his head: tea, soup, crackers, lozenges, and … Miller knew he was forgetting something. Glancing around the room he saw precisely what he was missing. He grabbed the tablet and set it on the tray.

He could not remember precisely what she was currently reading but he figured no one wants to do anything too productive when they are sick. If nothing else, he had loaded a few games onto her device that he thought she might enjoy; they might come in handy, if reading turned out to be too taxing.

There was practically no sound in the area of the ship where her quarters were. It was as if the rest of the Saints had spread the word to steer clear of the boss. Matt just shook his head. The room was brighter than he expected to find it, and the bed was empty.

"Remy."

As he crossed the room and set the tray on the bedside table he called her name a few more times and got no answer. When he found her, he was relieved but pained. _Apparently it is starve a flu_, told himself as he crossed the bathroom and crouched beside her. Her blonde hair was tied up in messy and hastily crafted bun, she looked peaceful until a shiver wracked her body. The boss curled in a little tighter on herself, tugging at the sweatshirt she was laying on.

Matt traced her brow with his fingertip. "Remy," he said softly. The faint groan was almost precious. He repeated the action and her name again and she blinked up at him. "Why are you asleep on the bathroom floor?"

"I just needed a minute. Thought about going to bed, but figured I'd just be safer here," she mumbled.

It was almost too cute, he thought, until he helped her sit up, which seemed to piss off the virus. Matt had never imagined himself in this position. Kneeling on the cold stone, rubbing someone's back, as they … _how did the guys in the dorm put it-prayed to the porcelain god_.

She rested her forehead on her arm, face still poised for another bout with the tiny bug invading her system. Her other hand tagged the handle and the whoosh drowned out all other possible sound. "You really don't need to do this, Matt."

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he could easily list a million things he would rather be doing, but she sounded so miserable. And he remembered what he was like when he did not feel well. He never liked being alone when he did not feel above board. Hell, less than a month earlier she had comforted him through about twelve stitches-reading to him despite the drug induced fog he had been in. It was not quite the same thing, but on the same vein, he thought.

"I know I don't," he replied, kissing her shoulder.

"I'm going to turn into a bear. I swear. You're better off not giving me someone to bite."

"I don't know. I rather enjoy it when you bite me."

The laughter was strained and started her heaving again. Much like the last spell it was little more than her body being uselessly tormented with spasms. Her breathing was labored and she groaned when it seemed it was over. When she tried to stand, he helped her.

"I'm going to turn down the bed. Then you're going to get in it," Matt ordered as Remy leaned over the sink.

**-3-**

The taste of the toothpaste threatened to make her body rebel again, but she managed to get through it without the painful reminder that her stomach was entirely empty. The fever made her feel clammy and grimy. Leaning against the sink trying to catch her breath, the boss decided on a detour. A few minutes later Matt opened the shower door and looked at her.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him from the floor of the shower. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then not so much."

Matt smiled, shook his head, and pulled his shirt off. After stripping quickly, he joined her on the floor of the shower. There was no lecture, no irritation, he did not even sigh at her.

"Are you running a fever?" he asked as he lightly ran the citrusy-scented soap over her arms.

"Probably."

"Cold sweats?"

She nodded as she leaned back against his chest. He washed her hair, and held her tight against him when she stood. Once he got her out of the shower and dry he did ask her to just let him take care of her.

"I know you're the boss," he said as he pulled the tank top over her head. "But I'm here, so let me help."

She looked up at him, it was still hard to have someone this much a part of her life, to have someone around who wanted to be immersed in her broken little world. Though she had to admit things were a little less broken since she had let Matt into it.

He zipped her up in his favorite hoodie then pressed his lips to her forehead before he pulled the hood over her head. He wrinkled his nose and reached past her. "You have a fever," he diagnosed as he looked through the medicine cabinet.

"It's not worth it," she observed glancing back at the collection of random little bottles. "As soon as it hits my stomach, I'll just be sick again."

There was concern in his blue eyes when he looked down at her. "We'll play it your way. But if it gets higher, we risk it."

It was a little strange to see her easily distracted hacker so intent and attentive. Her arms snaked around his chest and she just held onto him for a moment; it made her feel lightheaded and a little dizzy, but also comforted her as he wrapped himself around her, resting his cheek on her head. It was a simple thing and something he did for her often, but no matter how many times he embraced her so completely it was still one of the most intense sensations she had experienced.

When he scooped her up, Remy decided not to protest, instead she held onto him and let him carry her across the room. She did not object until Matt stood instead of climbing into the bed with her.

"I'll be back," he promised softly. And indeed he was after having donned a pair of comfortable pajama pants and a t-shirt.

Matt let her cuddle up on his chest with his arm around her. He snaked his arm under Remy's shirt, rubbing her back lightly. Remy could not help but hum as she pulled herself closer to him and his lips pressed to her forehead again.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary: **Remy's canonization goes a little astray. Two of her oldest friend are Saints. One of them is still holding a grudge. Is there a chance at reconciliation? Or will their friendship remain strained?

**a/n:** Based on a prompt provided by Chrystis who asked about the aftermath of Remy's canonization. Thank to Chy and Lore for the read through. This piece kind of veered off course and my characters ran me over with unexpected reactions.

**Welcome Home**

**-1-**

"What the hell are you doing, Julius?" Troy asked as he squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight that bathed the graveyard in warmth.

"Trust me, Troy," Little said in a voice as deep, smooth, and cold as the dark places of the ocean.

"She's just a kid."

The ominous laughter unsettled the younger man. "You're not from this neighborhood, Troy, so I'll give you a pass on that one. But believe me; she was never just a kid," he replied, setting his hand on Bradshaw's shoulder. ""I know exactly what I'm doing. And unlike you, I know exactly who she is. She is just what we need."

Troy did not like the way he said that, and he found it hard to believe the Saints boss. Deep down, no matter who that girl was, Bradshaw was sure the blonde from last night did not need to be here.

"Who is she?" he asked as the two of them stood in the doorway of the church watching as the crowd gathered.

The black clad stranger stood out. Not a lot of people ran around dressed like that. Troy shook his head in amusement, he did not know if she was trying to cultivate some image or if she really thought that getup was unnoticeable. Black cargo pants, baggie hoodie zipped high with the hood pulled over a black cap which she wore low on her brow, the lithe little thing topped off the look with a pair of very dark sunglasses. Made him wonder if she was trying to get attention or obscure herself, truthfully it could be a tossup.

"Remy McGinnis," Julius drawled, the corner of his mouth quirking up

"McGinnis? Any relationship to-"

"Yep. Those are her people. So like I said she was never just some fucking kid," Julius reinforced with a sharp look before moving forward to call the crowd to order.

**-2-**

Remy kept to the edge of the crowd; tried to keep people between them. Dex would care less. Johnny? Well, Johnny was another story, she knew. Julius' reputation was known enough. Some of her uncle's crew mentioned him and the moves he and his so-called Saints were trying to make. Either way it really did not matter to her. It wasn't any worse or better than what she had spent the last few years doing. At least with this gig, there would be people around. And there was something to that.

"Yo! Who the hell is this?" Johnny challenged after flashing her a grin.

_Should've known_. She could have shown up in the churchyard in a neoprene face mask and Johnny still would have known it was her. _That would be the disadvantage to people_, she thought, _even more so the better they know you_. And she and Johnny already had ten years of water under that washed out bridge.

"Anyone who want to roll with the Saints has to be canonized," her old friend reminded after Julius explained how she came to have a personal invitation to that little get together. Johnny stared at her. The coolness in his gaze said it all; he was not past it, which did not bode well. Then there came the smirk and the single nod. The little gesture in the air was punctuated by a familiar menacing chuckle.

Remy knew the signal, probably better than the people he was giving it to. He used it since fucking grade school, and it set her on the defensive long enough to get a count as to how many people were shifting forward instead of sideways to fill in the makeshift ring. The big guy had a hell of a tell and an even bigger follow thru, which gave her the advantage when he took his first swing. As he sailed past her, she helped him into a headstone and let him fall to the ground. The only sound was Gat's chuckle of approval which only spurred her on. The other two were not as easy as their big friend, but they were not the challenge they thought they were either.

The next group went for numbers over power. _Five-on-one. _Three of them fought together, moving like a cohesive unit; what made it that much sweeter was she knew the one in the middle. _Those have to be Johnny's boys_. The way they worked together felt familiar. Remy avoided them as much as possible as she whittled down the numbers.

Once she got the whole of the trio in front of her, which had taken a bit of work, she planned to keep it that way. Dodging punches from all sides sucked. Johnny's laughter from her right gave her a moment of inspiration. _Unexpected_, that was what her father always told her, _in a fight never meet their expectations, always break them._

She had to even this up. She had to break up that group. So she did. The trio was widely spaced in hopes that one of them could sneak back behind her; and Remy just hoped they were spaced out enough that she could get back to her feet before the other two caught on. Taking two steps back she dashed at one of the wingmen and hit him square in the solar plexus with her shoulder. She rolled off him and scampered to her feet, giving him a quick kick to the side in the hopes it would make him think twice about rejoining this little party.

_Yeah that's not going to work again. _One of the tools in old friend's arsenal had always been his reputation. People know of him, though very few actually knew Johnny, but more people than ever met him had heard of Gat. She did not have the same rep. But she could probably at least surprise one of these guys, maybe intimidate him a little. She let her eyes dart to Johnny for a moment and smirked at him just a bit.

"How ya been, Frankie?" Remy taunted with a quick wink at the Italian before she shifted her eyes to his pal. "Nemo."

The big Italian stopped dancing and furrowed his brow at her. The thick-neck Guido's eyes went wide when she pulled the hoodie back and took off the cap. Even with the glasses gone he had not realized who it was, but then again he had not really been looking. The gesture made him see; made him realize precisely who he fought.

"Aw, fuck," Frankie replied out of instinct.

"Come on. Is that any way to greet an old friend? No, hello? How ya been?" Remy tilted her head at him as she took a few steps to the right, he mirrored her. "I'm hurt, Frankie. Truly I am."

"Just don't break nuthin', okay?" he requested.

"You know me." Her smile went from playful to a little bit cold. "I don't make promises like that."

When her own footwork stopped, Frankie took a few steps back, looking around for something that was not there. She heard the exhale as she tackled him. _Frankie always did have a glass jaw_, she reminded herself as the punch connected and he went out like a light. Remy was not above fighting dirty. At 5'3", she took advantage of every opening she got. Her torment of an old acquaintance caused her to lose sight of the last guy.

When she started to stand, his arms wrapped tight around her chest. He was too tall for her to reach his instep. As she flailed, the motion threw off his balance enough to get a good kick off a tombstone. Opting for self-preservation, he dropped her. When she lunged, he dodged. They traded a few blows, but mostly the pair just rebuffed each other's shots. But Remy had a short attention span for things like this; she was bored and really wanted to save her energy for what she knew had to happen.

Finally, she tripped him up-got him to feint when he should have dodged. After sweeping his feet out from under him, she stood over Nemo. He held up his hands, saying, "Not in the face."

She chuckled. Several people in the group did too, but Johnny just glared at her over the rims of his glasses with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Julius!" Johnny called.

The boss moved down one step, but said nothing.

"We both know that this wasn't an even fight. And there's only one way to remedy that." Johnny took off his glasses carefully. Dex was not too far off. He gave Remy an apologetic nod, but took the glasses when Johnny handed them to him.

Remy rolled her shoulders forward and backward. _This. This was the fucked up family reunion she knew was coming_. "How's it going, Johnny?"

"The fuck you care?" he shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

"You always were a self-absorbed prick. Ever think it didn't have shit to do with you, brother?"

He shrugged, tipping his head to one side. "Still could have said something, _brother_." He spat the last word out of it, trying to steal any ulterior meaning it could have held.

"Fuck you, man. You wanna dance? Let's dance, but stop whining already."

Johnny lunged at her, which she was aiming for. She knew the jab to the kidneys as she dodged him would be the last shot she got for a while. As pissed as he was at her, had been at her for the last two years, that one shot would stick in his head and he would be more careful about letting her eek under his skin.

More blows landed in this exchange than the last, though for the most part it still became more about blocking, dodging, and reading their opponents. The disadvantage was that they learned to fight together; hell, usually against one another. They knew each other's styles too well, and though they had both added tricks to their arsenals; it went the way it usually did.

Remy caught Johnny on the cheek with a big right hook that left her too open. He grabbed her from behind, initially locking her up.

"You should have told me. I would have helped," he growled in her ear.

"You couldn't help. No one could," she argued, straining against his grapple.

"Bullshit!"

Getting one arm free, she jammed an elbow into his ribs. It caught him off guard enough for her to scamper loose.

"Don't you get it, asshole." She spat blood across the pavement. "I was fucking trying to protect you."

"Fuck you."

He caught her with a quick jab that dazed her for a second. Another split her lip. She returned it with a pair of quick blows to the body.

"I never asked you to," he grumbled lowly.

"Neither did I," she bit back, punching him in the face as she grabbed his shirt.

His response had her reeling. McGinnis could not be entirely certain but she was sure someone was yelling, maybe calling the fight. It did not matter. She expected to land on her ass, to hit the ground; instead her landing was softer, but not by much.

"Crazy motherfucker," Johnny said as he pulled her against his chest, an arm looping around her to steady his oldest friend.

Remy wrapped her arms around his waist loosely once she convinced her body to do her bidding again. "Takes one to know one."

"Can't believe you pulled this shit on _me_."

"Fuck, Johnny. I had to," she said, pushing away from him. He caught her arms as the dizziness hit again. _God he always did have a wicked cross. _Her hand closed around his forearm as he gripped her biceps. She gave up the secrecy of the last few years long enough to explain the reason behind it and her leaving Stilwater without a word to anyone. "For Percy."

He looked away for a moment, realizing that there was one thing that still ranked above her friends-the one stitch of real family she had left-her older brother. A few months before Remy practically vanished into thin air her brother had been shot, on their uncle's orders. He had botched a job. Percy did not succumb to his injury, but then her Uncle Ian had not wanted him dead. He just wanted the leverage over what he wanted, and he got it.

Remy and Percy McGinnis knew how to do a few things well-survive and kill. It was the legacy they got from their father after her mother died. Knives, guns, hand-to-hand: her father made sure, damn sure, she knew them all. Her uncle had contracted out her father's special talents. After his death, he did the same with her brother who had already been apprenticing with their father, for lack of a better phrase. Remy knew the same tricks, the same trade, as her brother but she had never worked with either of them. Her father never planned on her using the things he taught her.

In fact when she was in the fourth grade, he found out that she was and was monumentally angry. Dexter Jackson, Johnny Gat, and Remy McGinnis grew up in the same neighborhood; they all were at Stilman Elementary together though in different grades. Johnny tried to shake Remy down for her lunch money on her first day of first grade there. She kicked him in the shin and attacked his parentage in some fairly colorful ways; they were best friends from that point on. Just after winter break they happened upon Dex on the playground. He was nursing a busted nose from a fifth grader that was trying to assert himself. That was not the first time Remy and Johnny had done something like that, but beating up that kid that day made their dynamic duo a trio to be reckoned with.

That three became thick as thieves, as the saying goes. In third grade, Dex had a brilliant scheme. They started running a playground protection racket. The chess dorks would shell over a couple of bucks and their recess matches would go unsullied. Geeky kids used to getting wedgies on the way to class paid for an escort. It was a sweet gig. And the three of them split the proceeds evenly.

The next year it came to a head. They employed a few other kids. One decided to "freelance" and a _discussion_ turned into more; he ratted out the whole scheme. Johnny, Dex, and Remy all got suspended. Remy also got relocated to a private school on the north side of town, though when she got home every day, she could always be found with her best friends.

Johnny nodded at her. It was not over she knew. Two years without one fucking word between them. They both still had shit left to say, but it was not going to get said while they had one another's blood on their knuckles.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said.

When she turned, Dex was there; he held Johnny's glasses out to him and smiled at her with more than a trace of relief. "Hey little mama." Dex gave great hugs for a skinny guy she could snap like a twig. "Fucking good to see you," he whispered toward her ear as he squeezed her.

"Missed you too, man. Both of you," she added, turning her head.

Johnny did not reply he just eyed her.

**-3-**

Gat did not even need to ask Dex where to find her. He knew the house was still in her family's name. Her brother rented out the upper floors and lived on the first. Remy always laid claim to the basement, and as far as he knew, since she left no one had lived in that basement. Good money told him that's exactly where he would find her.

Even so, he spent nearly half an hour leaning against the hood of his car staring at that house. He knew that place as well as his gram's place. As he stepped on the butt he dropped to the ground, he tried to ignore the sheer number of others there. They were all his-a third of a pack burned hard and fast as he battled with himself.

When the curtains of the front window shifted again, Johnny nodded at Percy. Her brother never really like Gat, thought he was a troublemaker and that meant he could not be a real friend or whatever, Johnny never really paid attention to that part of Percy's diatribes. The only reason Johnny checked in on him at all over the last few years was in hope that he would give up something about Remy, but Percy never did. Just bitched and moaned until Gat gave up and left.

"Fuck it," he finally said, straightening and crossing the street, oblivious to any traffic. He marched down the sidewalk beside the house, lifted the roof of a decorative little birdhouse and pulled the key out of its little alcove.

He knew Remy well enough to know that she did not like uninvited visitors, but he did not feel he qualified as either of those. She was his best friend, and vice versa. As he turned the key in the lock, there was a heartbeat when he wondered if maybe he should have knocked, but the thought was gone before it rooted. When he pushed the door open, he heard the distinctive sound of a hammer being set back in place.

"You dumb motherfucker," she scolded from behind him.

"Says the idiot that keeps the extra key in the same place it's been since she was six," he accused, pocketing the key.

She crossed the room and set the pistol on the workbench that took up most of the far corner of the room. "Thanks."

Johnny shrugged. He knew she was talking about the guns. After she bounced, he would check in on the place whenever he saw her brother. She left a lot of her dad's old gun collection here when she bailed and he took care of them for her. Secretly, he could give a fuck about the guns. He had come by hoping to see any hint that she had been home, but there never was.

"How long have you been back?"

"A week."

The math told him that if she was being straight with him that was two days before their little blow out in the churchyard. "How's the lip?"

Remy sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. "Beer's in the fridge. And cut the chit chat it was never your fucking style."

"You want one?" he asked tugging open the antique looking refer. He stared at it a moment before the smile curled his lips. "Should I even ask?"

When she turned, Remy rolled her eyes at him and opened the newer looking one next to the one he had opened. Remy handed him the bottle, while she pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper. Closing the door she went back to the table and the sniper rifle laying in pieces atop a soft swath of cloth.

"But seriously. Why is this refrigerator full of guns? Not that I'm knocking it." He tilted his head, eying the set up. Tugging open the little freezer door he got another instant reminder of why this woman was his best friend. _Grenades and explosives in the freezer. They just don't make enough friends like you, Remy_.

"Gun cases are obvious. An extra refer, is just another appliance."

"Your daddy tell you that one," he asked, sipping at his beer.

"No."

Even in that one word he could hear it. He knew that tone. It was the same tone she had that night six years earlier when a call came to his house in the middle of the night. They were still just kids. With all the fights they had been in and all the shit that came down, it had been a night of firsts. The first time he ever heard that tone of voice. The first time he saw his friend with blood on her hands. And the first dead body he had seen up close.

"Who then?"

"Does it matter?"

"You tell me," he challenged as he sat down on a rickety chair at the crappy wobbly dining table.

"What do you want, Johnny?"

"Percy tell you I annoyed the shit out of him the last two years?"

"Yeah. I got to hear _all_ about that."

He took a long pull on the bottle, knowing there was nothing that was going to calm the irritation prickling at him. Remy never used to keep things from him. He never had to push. Hell, usually he did not even have to ask.

"What happened?" His voice was a tight as his hand around the beer.

"I did what my uncle wanted."

He stared at her back. The best light in the entire hellhole of an apartment hung over that bench, swinging slightly. He could see the tension in the way the muscles of her shoulders moved. The little tank top did not do anything to hide the stiffness in the movements she made as she cleaned her father's rifle. He equally hated that smell and loved it-Hoppe's No. 9, the gun oil her father favored. She said she used it out of habit. Johnny knew it was because it reminded her of Liam McGinnis.

Johnny crossed the room and leaned on the table. "Why are you prepping Pop's baby?"

"Not prepping. Just maintenance. She just got home," Remy said quietly as she replaced the barrel.

He loomed there next to her watching her reassemble the first rifle either of them ever shot. Her dad did not completely hate Johnny. Mr. McGinnis just thought Gat was misguided and needed better direction. Hell, his favorite summer was still the one he spent in the woods with that tiny branch of the McGinnis clan. He probably did not learn as much as her pop would have liked, but Johnny would always credit his skill with a firearm to Liam.

Neither of them said a word while she worked. Remy laid the gun in the hard case carefully and snapped the lid closed. That one did not go in the refrigerator; it slid under the futon that always stayed in the flat position. He remembered when she put the damn thing together. Some screw or twig was missing or lost and the stupid thing would never stay up. Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck as if that would ease away the guilty twang that nipped at him. That was another reason he would come here when she was gone. It was the only place he was sure not to miss her so much.

"You used to talk to me," Johnny accused quietly, leaning on one elbow against her worktable.

"Yeah, well that was before." She pushed the case out of sight and stood keeping her back to him.

He took another sip. "You know I don't give a fuck what it was."

"Then why do you keep asking?" she set her hands on her hips.

Johnny tipped his head slightly and thought about it. "Because maybe if I push, you'll talk, then, maybe, my best friend might be back. Because I don't know what that is," he said gesturing in her direction. "But it's not Remy."

He could almost hear her blood boiling. When she turned he saw what he'd been waiting for. There was that legendary Irish fire. He set the bottle out of the way and straightened as she stalked toward him. "You know what, fuck you, Johnny. What the fuck gives you the right? Huh?"

"You did."

He held his palm up to her; even if no one else noticed the scar he knew she would remember it.

"Two fucking dumbass kids playing with knives in the fucking forest remember." Johnny clasped her right hand in his tightly and pulled her to him. "Blood brothers," he said with a smirk, staring into those big blue eyes he knew too well. He would wait all day if he had to; he was going to make her finish it.

"To the death," she conceded. Her eyes glistening slightly, she relented-gave up the fight with herself, with him, with the fucking world. When she rested her forehead against his shoulder, Gat set his hand on the back of her neck. "Fuck, Johnny. I never understood why Da was so adamant about not taking me with him and Perc, you know?"

"Yeah. I remember," he replied when she looked up at him.

"Did you know what he did?"

"No, but I pieced it together after the few visits I had with your brother where he'd been drinking. He's a chatty drunk."

Remy squeezed his hand again then let go of it. She turned and ran her hands through her hair. "Twenty-two kills. That's what was left in Dad and Percy's book."

"Hardly a drop in the bucket," Gat joked.

"Difference is these weren't gang bangers."

"Look you know me. I'm not going to give a fuck."

"The last one. There was a kid."

Johnny snapped his mouth shut.

She shook her head. "They weren't the target. Thank God. But it was her mom, Johnny."

Nothing else had to be said. Gat crossed the room and squeezed into the chair next to her. He did not say a word as she curled up against his chest, just laid an arm over her shoulder and held onto her. Gat swallowed hard as the moisture seeped through his shirt. He knew what it meant: Remy had done to some girl what someone did to her. The one thing his best friend never seemed to be able to let go of was her mom. He had not known Remy then. It happened the spring before they started school together, but she told him about it a few times.

Remembering those emotional conversations he hugged her just a little tighter. There were not words for this. No amount of punches worked against this, he knew from experience because he offered once to let her beat him to a pulp if she would just stop crying. But this worked. A silent friend harboring no judgment-someone who knew her. For now, maybe that was all he needed to be.


	3. Dorks Night Out: A Shopping Trip

**Dorks Night Out: Shopping**

**-1-**

The morning had been quiet. But after the rowdy day prior, Remy did not mind the momentary quiet. With her feet propped on Johnny's desk, she rocked the rickety chair back and forth as she turned the pages quickly in the book she had pulled off one of the shelves. There were pages missing, making the text a little hard to follow, but it was something to do.

Johnny had been rambling for the last twenty minutes. The basic gist, she got, he was worried about something, though she was not sure why Johnny was jumping from topic to topic like something was biting him.

"'Cause you're a chick, right?"

Remy glanced up from the book propped on her thighs. _This is going to be good_, she thought. Closing it and tossing it on the desk, she let the chair's legs clap back to the ground.

"General consensus would suggest yes, but some say the jury is still out," she replied. "Why?"

"Eash's birthday is in a few days. I can't figure out what to get her."

Remy shrugged. "I dunno man. Something frivolous or practical?"

She had known Aisha as long as he had; they all grew up in the section of Stilwater that made up Mission Beach. The singer kind of accidentally fell into their group when Remy was about twelve, even back than Aisha had a thing for Johnny. McGinnis knew more about Gat's popularity than she wanted to because once people figured out she was just his friend, she suddenly became an accessible conduit.

"She has a lot of shoes," he said absently. The question written all over his face.

Remy winced. "Why not get her something she can use? Take her shooting or something."

"Tried that. The bugs got to her."

"Isn't there an indoor range up on the north side somewhere? That should solve that problem."

"Guns kind of freak her out."

McGinnis tried to wrap her head around that one. "And she's dating you. Go fucking figure."

"I don't keep them at her place."

"And what happens when she stays over?"

Johnny shrugged. "We tend to just go to her place."

"Get yourself a refrigerator then she won't know."

"Until she opens it looking for a beer and screams like a mouse just ran up her skirt."

Remy shrugged again. "How is she with knives?"

The smile bloomed on Johnny's face. "_You_ are a fucking genius. Let's go."

**-2-**

"I swear you two and the damn knives," Dex said, leaning against the counter next to Remy.

She looked over at him and smirked. "My daddy always said it was more polite to give a man the respect of killing him up close and personal."

"Yeah, well, your daddy was a stone psycho. That man always creeped me out."

Remy bumped his shoulder with hers. "There were good reasons for his special brand of crazy. You know that."

There was a note of solemnity in her tone that was not lost on Jackson. "I thought we were going to do something, other than get Johnny all hot and bothered over sharp and pointy things."

Gat leaned forward brandishing the blade he had been studying in his friend's direction. "You keep running your mouth and I'll carve my name in your ass."

"Right after you take these eight inches," Dex taunted, grabbing himself.

"Strap 'em on and we'll dance, Mandingo."

Remy moved slightly, leaning over the counter. "Excuse me, sir, do you have a measuring tape back there somewhere?"

The man glared at her, but it did the trick her idiots were laughing instead of threatening to mushroom stamp one another in the middle of the store.

"Is this the one or not?"Remy asked, looking at the rainbow colored pocket knife. She actually liked the look of the anodized coating on the blades and handles of these weapons.

"I don't know," Johnny waffled. "You don't think it's too big."

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she took the knife from him. "I don't know. If your stories are even half true I figure Aisha'd be used to something sizeable in her hands."

Dex rolled his eyes. Johnny just chuckled.

"It feels fine to me," Remy said, taking the knife and turning it in her hands.

"You're seriously buying your girl a knife for her birthday?" Dex asked, turning and resting his hip against the glass.

"Yeah," Gat replied like it was the stupidest question he had ever heard.

"Girls aren't into that shit."

Remy raised her hand.

"Yeah, and tits do not make you a girl," Dex told her.

When she pulled at her waistband and looked down the front of her own jeans she glanced back up at him with a question.

"You're just… fuck I don't know what you are. But 'girl' ain't it. You own three pairs of the exact same boots all in black. I don't think you have ever cried at a movie, unless it was from laughter. And plus you're really just Johnny, only prettier."

"I thought you were the smart one and I was the pretty one," Johnny muttered toward her shoulder.

"Which must make me the crazy one for hanging out with your two," Dex concluded.

"Aww, Johnny," Remy chided with a big grin as she laid her hands over her heart. Dex groaned when she batted her eyelashes at him. "I think he lurvs us." She sniffled once and touched her knuckle to her cheek.

"Fucking whack job."

"Nah, I think it's just you," Gat opined, before tilting his head at Dex. "Then what do you suggest, oh great and single chick whisperer?"

"Fuck you, Johnny!"

"No, I'm serious. I fuck this up and Eash will pout at me for a week, and that's if I'm lucky."

"Well… jewelry, always works," Dex noted, raising a finger before Gat could even open his mouth, "and not that crap from Bling Bling. Real fucking jewelry. Don't get all cheap and banger. You been with this girl since junior year. Put a little effort into it. And we both know you can afford it."

Johnny actually looked like he was considering the suggestion. He glanced over at Remy who shrugged. "All right, so that means we're headed downtown, right? I'll drive."

"Fuck no," Remy replied as the trio walked out of Brass Knuckles. "You drive worse than your Grams."

"What are you complaining about? You get to have my hands between your knees," Johnny retorted with a wicked smirk.

Remy punched him in the kidney hard enough to make him curl toward her in response. "Keep your wet dreams to yourself Gat. I'll just sit in Dex's lap."

"The fuck you will. This is my goddamn car. And _I'm_ driving, thank you both very much," Dex said, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Shit!" Johnny stopped by the other door.

"You bring something to do? Because the way he drives, we'll never get there," Remy said.

After pulling the door open and stepping on the passenger seat, Remy perched on the console and propped her boots on the dash until Gat slid into the car. Then he got the privilege of a pair of combat boots between his knees. When he cocked an eyebrow up at her, she cackled.

"Don't look so worried. I won't take advantage, but I'd watch the sass," she chided, tapping the toe of her boot against his inner thigh.

With that, he grabbed her ankles and laid her feet over his far leg, peeking over the rim of his sunglasses. "Fuck! That!"

Dex laughed as he started the car. "That's like telling his dumbass to stop breathing."

"Shit. That'd be easier," Gat noted.

**-3-**

Remy growled at him. "Oh just spread your legs," she said pushing him back against the seat and wrenching his knees apart. "I'm the better shot anyway."

"Damnit, you little leprechaun from hell," Johnny mumbled as she knelt between his legs. He tucked his gun in his waistband quickly and grabbed her waist so she would not have to try and balance herself on the headrest, too.

"I swear I really need to find a better class of friends," Dex lectured from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. How many times have we heard this shit, Rem?" Gat chuckled.

"You mean since I got back, or since we met him?" The shooter asked as she changed clips.

"Oh, let's be fair. Just since you got home."

"Fuck you both." Dex slid through a turn and Remy almost tumbled into the driver's lap.

"Damn Dex, drive much?" she retorted.

He glared up at her for a second. "Damn Mac, shoot much?"

"Eat me."

"Hey, now. Save your flirting for later," Johnny interrupted. When she righted herself, more swerving had one of her knees inching forward. "Remy, you know I love you but, you get any closer and we might not be friends much longer."

"Oh, suck it up. You'd make a good falsetto."

"Girl, don't think I won't throw you out of this car myself."

Dex groaned. "Could you get those guys off our ass please?"

"I'm trying," Remy replied through gritted teeth.

Johnny really did not quite know what was happening behind them, which normally would set him on edge. The only thing that kept that at bay is that Remy was right, she was a better shot-always had been. He preferred to chalk it up to time. Her father started teaching her after her mother died. Johnny's first lesson with the McGinnis clan had not come until he was ten; she had been eight at the time. He, also, in terms of sheer amount of time and number of rounds shot, knew that she severely surpassed him, which made her about the only person he would sit still for in this type of situation.

"What are you carrying? A nine?" she asked as she sat back on her heels and reloaded her gun.

"You must be joking," Johnny replied with a smirk as he tugged the weapon out of his waistband.

Remy laughed and tilted her head slightly. "Only you would carry a cannon in your pants."

"I'm so used to it I hardly even notice."

Remy rolled her eyes as she knelt, training her friend's GDHC .50 at the front end of the cruiser chasing them. Two well placed shots and she had the vehicle disabled. "Okay, so maybe I'm glad you over compensate," she chided as she sat back again, leaning her back against the dashboard while still kneeling on his seat.

"It's not over compensating when it's true, Lucky."

"What did I tell you about calling me after that goddamn cereal toon?"

"Don't get your purple horseshoe all in a twist," Johnny replied, taking his gun out of her hands. Even if the safety was on, a gun between his legs in anyone's control but his was an off putting proposition.

"What the hell were you two thinking back there?" Dex grumbled as he slowed down and veered onto a thin side street to try and avoid any more cops.

"What?" Remy shrugged innocently as she picked up her Vice from the console. She leaned up and looked behind them again; satisfied they weren't being followed again, yet she turned and dropped onto Johnny's thigh.

"What, my ass?" Dex said. "You know damn well _what_? Were you just bored?"

"Kind of," she said lifting her shoulder. "It would have been fine if you would not have gone all nervous Nelly and fallen into that damn display case."

"You broke into the place."

"It was closed."

Dex sighed. "We could have come back."

"Are you serious?" Remy rested her back against the door and looked at Johnny. "Who the fuck is this guy and what the hell did he do with Dex?"

Gat just laughed.

"Hey! I have enough people breathing down my neck I don't need to add random fucking berries to the list."

"He's kind of paranoid isn't he?" Remy said, leaning toward Johnny as the pair of them eyed the driver.

"Screw you, Rem."

She stuck her tongue out and tapped his knee with the toe of her boot.

"Girl!"

"Hey you offered," she cooed before she stuck her tongue out at him. "Besides you're not tall enough to ride this ride."

Both of her friends laughed. "Says our own resident leprechaun," Gat quipped.

The petite blonde punched Johnny in the shoulder she was not currently leaning against. "You should really think before you speak, especially when a woman with a gun is in your lap, silly badger."

Dex sputtered. "I fucking told you, man."

Johnny glared up at her.

"I mean it's funny as hell," Remy offered, as she teased as some of the frosted spiky tips of his naturally jet black hair. "You mean you let him do this, Dex?"

"Yeah, like I could keep either of you from doing anything. And he did not consult me before."

"Your stylist must hate you or something, Gat."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her arm from around his neck, setting her hand in her own lap none too gently. His glare was prominent and lowered his brow.

"Oh, I think I must have hurt his little badger feelings," Remy said playfully.

Dex chuckled, shaking his head and leaning toward his door. Once or twice a few of the guys had braved up and made that statement-Johnny's response had nipped those types of comments in the bud rather quickly. Difference this go around lay in the identity of the person taunting him.

"Hey Dex!" she called, leaning against and pressing her hand on the console when she pointed out the convenience store. "If you stop, I bet we can get him some honey… sweeten his mood." She glanced at Johnny over her shoulder with a teasing wink.

His response was calculated. His hands on her ribs resulted in a sharp chirp as she slipped off his leg, but there was no place to go. She was trapped in the front seat of the tiny convertible with the pair of them. When she launched herself toward the console, her shoulder connected with Dex's and made him swerve.

"You two idiots are going to kill us all. First the damn cops, now your antics. Keep your foreplay on that side of the damn car," Dex scolded with a growl, pushing McGinnis toward the passenger side.

Remy bit down on a laugh as Johnny pulled her back over to his side of the car.

"He is very uptight," McGinnis said with bright eyes.

Johnny nodded his agreement. "We should see if we can't get him laid."

Dex shot a quick glare to the passenger seat.

"It could do wonders for your disposition, Dex."

"Rem."

With a petulant sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest and settled back against her friend. She set her mouth to Johnny's ear. "What the fuck did you do to him while I was gone?"

Gat's eyes shifted from the road to the driver for a moment then he turned to the blonde whose head was propped against his shoulder as she stared at the inky black haze in the sky. "Let's just say the last two years have been a bit fucked. But it's not mine to tell. You know the deal."

She nodded against his shoulder, eyes still turned upward. Remy knew the score. And if she found out about, it would be from Dex, not Johnny. They both knew how to keep a confidence; after all they had been keeping one another's for more than ten years.


	4. Dorks Night Out: Good Morning Moon

**Summary:** This piece was inspired by the following prompt from OTPPrompts on tumblr: Imagine Person B has to spend the night at Person A's house. That is also the night Person B discovers that Person A sleeps completely naked, regardless if there's a visitor or not. After I read it all I could see was Johnny/Remy/Dex, and her and Dex in the living room the next morning eating pop tarts or something equally mundane and Johnny strolls out and starts making coffee and they are both just sitting there staring first at him then at one another.

**a/n: **Thank to Chy for beta-ing this piece, and thank you to both she and StayCloseFF for batting this idea around with me after I saw the prompt and in its infancy.

** Dorks Night Out: Good Morning Moon**

The groan resounded through her own head as Remy straightened. She was still trying to decipher quite how she had wound up curled in a ball, chin to chest, on the corner of Johnny's ancient sofa as she tried to sit up. Of course that would have gone better, save for the anchor. She tugged her leg again and something tightened around it.

"Fucking hell, Dex," she muttered when she looked over and saw him nuzzling at the back of her knee with his hands fisted in her jeans. She leaned up and tried to loosen his hands which caused him to stir. "C'mon man, get off me."

Dex startled when she tried to push his arm off her calf with her other foot. "Who? Wha-?" He looked at her leg then up at her before finally releasing her.

She chuckled lowly as she sat up which made him groan in response. His progression to upright was much slower and involved him cradling his forehead with the heels of his hands.

"Fuck," he drawled out the word on another growl as he curled over himself. "How damn much did we drink?"

"Obviously more than enough," she said lowly. Her own mouth was dry and cottony, but at least she was not in quite so bad a shape as Dex.

"Shh!"

"You are a motherfucking lightweight, son."

"Screw you! Just because I don't have some genetic disposition to alcohol consumption."

Remy laughed at the jibe at her Irish heritage and the fact her family owned one of the oldest running pubs in Stilwater. She was actually trying not to be overly loud.

"Ugh! Keep it down." He fell over into a heap on the sofa as she stood.

McGinnis stumbled into the kitchen. She opened a few cabinets until she found two glasses, which she filled with water. On the way back to the living room, she grabbed the blue box off the top of the refrigerator and tucked it under her arm.

"Here. Drink this," she ordered tapping Dex's shoulder with the glass.

When some trickled some on his forehead, he jolted again, popping back into a sitting position. He groaned loudly grabbing his head at the pain spiked by the suddenness of the movement. "What the hell, Rem? Come on."

"Drink the water. Jesus, learn to handle your liquor, man."

Dex glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "Like you have so much experience."

"You don't see me moaning and crying like the undead, do you? Nope. So shut up and drink the water, it will help."

"Like you know."

"My uncle runs a bar. I might have heard a trick or two, ya think?"

Dex just grumbled at her again, but at least he was drinking the water. She sat down again on the edge of the couch and ripped open the crinkly silver package.

"Are you seriously going to eat?"

"Nauseous?" she asked, breaking off a piece of the toaster pastry. She winced after the first bite and turned the box to see what flavor they were. "God, I hate the strawberry ones. Why the hell couldn't he have a decent flavor like blueberry or something?"

"Eash ate all the blueberry ones the last time she was here," Johnny said sleepily as he shuffled through the door.

Remy looked up, about to say something, but her mind stalled in a glance. Dex started choking next to her. In a moment, she knew he had gotten the same shock she did. Johnny was oblivious to the stares of his friends. Ambling into the kitchen, he stretched his arms over his head. Gat pulled a filter off the stack next to the coffee maker and dropped it in the machine. Grabbing the pot, he turned again; Remy and Dex both averted their eyes when he did.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Pants?" Dex replied sharply.

Johnny looked down and shrugged. "I can't sleep for shit in pants."

"Yeah well, you're not sleeping now, cuz. And hung over or not, people just can't unsee shit like that." Dex gestured in Johnny's direction without looking up.

Remy laughed heartily and leaned against her hand. "You're doing this just to rile him, aren't you?" she accused with a glance over at her friend, who was facing the sink as he filled the carafe.

Bare-assed Johnny was enough of a shock. Full Monty Gat might be more than anyone needed first thing in the morning, especially after a night spent drinking. That motherfucking laugh of his told her everything she needed to know. What might have started as happenstance, quickly became a bit of overly familiar teasing.

"You evil bastard," Dex griped, looking up in time to get flashed again. He covered his face quickly and turned his eyes downward again with a groan, staring at his glass of water.

Remy just popped another piece of her untoasted pastry in her mouth and shook her head. "You're just jealous because that eight inches bullshit might just be true."

Johnny's rumbling chortle rolled through the room again as he flipped the switch on the coffee pot.

"No, I'm just not rocking the whole Johnny with his cock out thing," Dex blurted, looking toward the kitchen were Gat was conveniently leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest in all his glory. "Damn, man. Seriously can you put that thing away?"

McGinnis started by patting Jackson on the shoulder then she draped her arm over his shoulder. "Aww. It looks like Dexy is intimidated by the full Johnny," Remy crooned before she started cackling.

"You're too fucking young for this kind of show anyway," Dex bit back.

Remy shoved him. "Suck it. And you're old enough for that hangover, huh? Don't start shit with me."

"This ain't the old days, Rem."

"Dex. That's not the way to go about this," Johnny warned a second too late.

"No. This needs to get squared the hell away."

Remy turned her head and looked at Dex, but not before Johnny noticed her eyes go dark as the challenge in her voice. "Say your piece, cuz. And let's have it all said and done."

"Just remember your place."

Remy clocked her old friend before Gat could get a hold of her.

"I'll show you my motherfucking place, or have you forgotten who had your back all those years?"

Johnny pulled her off Dex as she growled at them both, more so the man with her locked in his grasp. Dex rolled back onto the couch moaning just a little more than before. There were a handful of things that would set the tiny blonde off, and even the insinuation that Dex mistakenly made was one of the big ones. Though she stopped kicking, Remy still instinctively struggled against the arms around her; the feeling of being hemmed in being more than she could take in that moment.

"Ease back, Rem." Gat's voice was calm and deep in her ear. Her body went slack and the girl just shy of five-foot-three went still in his arms. "If I put you down, are you going to kill him?"

"Yes."

Johnny took a deep breath. "You know Dex, sometimes you are the dumbest genius motherfucker I know."

"Sorry, Remy," Dex spat realizing the error of that particular approach, albeit a little too late.

"Not yet," she promised darkly.

"It's been a while, okay? I forgot-"

"I won't," McGinnis promised as Johnny yanked her out of the front room.

"Remy. Goddamnit." He tossed her on the bed and closed the door behind him with a kick of his foot. "Seriously, you need to get the temper in check."

"Oh, that's hilarious, Johnny, especially coming from you."

"Did you see me lose my shit in there over the way things are? You been out. Dex and I are on the topside now. You're the low man on the totem pole, plain and simple."

"Do I look motherfucking blind, Gat? I know the way shit works," Remy replied, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

Johnny pulled open a dresser drawer then tugged on a pair boxers before digging out a pair of jeans. After getting dressed halfway, Gat leaned on the iron footboard and stared at her as she sat there sulking at him.

"You can't go off the chain on your friends."

"Yeah well my friends used to know the fucking score. Now they think I, of all people, need a motherfucking refresher course," she argued as she crawled across the bed on her knees. Squaring off with him, Remy stared him dead in the eyes. "What? You think I'm short a few points short of passing, too?"

"So know you wanna go toe to toe with me again?" he replied without moving an inch.

"As I recall, _you_ started that."

"Yeah, well, _you_ deserved it." Gat leaned back and crossed his hands over his chest. "You ever think maybe he needed a go at you, too? I wasn't the only friend you left whipping in the breeze," he reminded with a serious look down at her. "Have you told him about Perc?"

"Nah," she replied, shaking her head and sitting back on her heels. "Dex didn't know about Da and Uncle Ian. He just thinks we were way into camping."

Johnny choked back a laugh.

"I don't think he wants to know either, ya know?" she said, looking up at him. "Not all of it at least. He was never quite like you and me."

"Just tell him you were working for your Uncle. He knows Ian's connected, now. It might get him to ease back since you're not willing to tell him the whole spiel."

"Might be easier to just let him kick my ass."

"Yeah right. You'd get bored with those little sissy punches of his and beat him like redheaded stepchild," Johnny chided. "You've got to trust us, Lucky."

"I do."

Gat looked at her incredulously.

"More than most. After all this shit, you can't expect miracles, badger boy."

"Oh, you didn't," Johnny chimed.

Remy waggled her eyebrows at him and cackled. "Yeah. I totally did. And it's your own fault for letting that happen," she replied, gesturing to his head as she stood, hopped off the bed, and walked toward the door.

Johnny looped an arm around her neck tightly and tousled her hair; leaving Remy to attempt to swat him off. As she walked out of the room, Johnny yanked on the back of her hair as she tried to put it back into a half decent ponytail. McGinnis threw her hand back and smacked him on the belly.

"Well at least you got him into some goddamn pants," Dex said, raising his head slightly off the back of the sofa.

"Yeah well, I wasn't quite as entertaining an audience as you," Remy answered, pulling her long blonde hair through the black elastic.

"I could remedy that if you like, Dex?" Johnny offered, hands going to his waist. "I try to be a good host. Make sure my guests are entertained."

Dex just groaned and laid his head back. Remy shook her head at Johnny.

"Listen I know you two big shots don't have to, you know… work for a living."

Johnny shot her an ugly look.

"But there is this evil motherfucker breathing down my neck about making some headway in Carnales territory. So I'm going to leave you two sweet things to your little lover's tiff," Remy announced as she slipped her feet into her boots, while ignoring Dex's dirty look. She stopped and leaned over her old friend. "We will talk later, cuz."

"Yeah. You got it," Jackson replied quietly, grabbing her hand. "Don't let him mushroom stamp you. You'll never live that shit down."

Johnny waggled his eyebrows at her.


	5. Equally Possible

**Summary:** Fill for a prompt from Kakumei: Remy/Matt, with number 13(Sleepy Sex) for the NSFW meme please!]

**a/n:** Thank you Lore for the alternative idea. You are, as always, an amazing inspiration. Thanks to Lore and Chy for their perusal of this piece. Appreciated as always

**Equally Possible**

_"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible." ~ T.E. Lawrence._

The pressure on his chest, gentle yet firm, moved slowly, punctuated by the muted buzz of the zipper on his suit. A wisp of cool air skimmed his bare chest raising gooseflesh and tightening his nipples in the most tempting way. Her light eyes bored into his as she looked down at him. The intensity in her gaze was stifling, like standing in the desert at the height of the day when the sun warmed your skin in an instant and the heat made it hard to breathe.

When the back of her fingers skimmed his jaw, all Matt could do was turn into the touch. Those strong fingers curled under his chin and lifted his lips to hers. That ethereal touch-soft and light with an aching temporality-made his entire body throb. The pang reached deeper than he thought it could.

Uncertain precisely how it happened, his suit seemed to melt away baring his skin to the cool recirculated air of the ship. His skin tightened and stung almost painfully as the chill swept over him causing him to shudder. Remy's smile held a note of darkness as she loomed over him without touching him; her mouth was just far enough that he couldn't even lunge for it.

Staring at her, the boss prowled there, taunting and tempting, as Matt struggled against the growl in his chest, against the desire and hunger, which finally loosed, burned powerfully. Her skin had paled. _The lack of sunlight_, he assumed. The dark lines etched upon her body told a story no one but her could truly read.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that wasn't precisely true. The face flashed in his mind. Not the face Matt had seen on the ship, but the one that Ultor used in advertising. An imposing figure with a stoic scowl suggestive of the danger Johnny Gat embodied. He and Remy scared Philippe, which was the reason the Syndicate had moved as carefully and precisely as they did. Hell, Johnny scared Zinyak enough that he ripped him out of that plane and held the human in stasis-toying with Johnny for just shy of a decade. Even that had not managed to break the man.

_Seven years_, Matt thought for a moment. _You were struggling after a handful of days_. Or at least that was the timeline he had assumed.

His eyes returned to hers. He saw that same question again. The challenge for certainty. Remy offering him another chance at an out, even at this moment, was not what Matt wanted to see.

"Please," he croaked. The desperation in his own voice surprised him, even though it coursed through him, chilling him to the bone.

It started with a fingertip, lone and light, drawing across his temple. The heat from her skin burning a trail of fire and lightning across every inch of skin she touched. Her soft lips brought a sigh to his mouth, a bare groan buzzed in his throat as her tongue slipped into his mouth. Her palms on his face and his neck seared him sharply, but that heat was nothing compared to the blaze of her bare body against his.

The sharp keen he heard, an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, as the electricity of her sparked through every nerve of his body, coiling along his spine as his head swam. Even though the sound felt disembodied he knew it to be his own voice that had called out so fervently. He wanted her. He wanted her so strongly it bordered on cusp of need, even though he knew that was merely an illusion conjured by his heart and his addled brain.

Her hips skimmed his in a deliberate motion designed to tantalize, to incite him. He moaned wantonly as she brought his hands to her breasts. Greed flooded him, becoming Miller's primary motivation in that instant. He squeezed, kneaded, pinched, and tugged as her tongue worked against his until he drew a bright gasping sigh from her. He didn't fight the smile of pride that curled his lips as he looked up into Remy's pale eyes that glistened with passion-those eyes whose expressiveness had always fascinated and frightened him.

Matt moved with calculated consciousness, even despite the lurid friction which quickened his breathing as well as his pulse. His tongue darted across his upper lip as her eyes bore into him. The lick was languid and slow as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the patch of pink. His breath and the chill in the room tightened her flesh temptingly. He closed his mouth over her nipple, lathing his tongue over it, swirling and playful.

As he slid his mouth from her skin, Remy pressed against him with determination. The heat was dizzying; the tempting slickness threatened to push him to desperation.

"Remy," he groaned. It was not a statement or a question, nor was it a declaration. It was a plea.

When her hand skimmed a hot trail down his chest, he knew she could be more merciful than most people on Earth had ever given her credit for. She pushed him back against the pillows, following him and kissing him deeply. Matt grabbed at her hips tightly as she sank down on him. Remy was a dizzying mix of heat. Miller held the back of her neck tightly as his tongue penetrated her mouth as her hips rocked against him.

He wanted her, all of her. Every inch. Every breath. And Matt lost himself in that yearning. He coveted her-her taste, her touch, her feel, the sound of her quick short breathlessness as she broke their kiss. His hips pressed upwards into the rhythm the boss set. He could fell that familiar tightness and pressure building beneath the surface.

Wordless gnarring whirled around him. When her body grasped at him, Matt's eyes closed and pressed his head back into the softness as he thrust up into her smooth motions. His fingertips grasped at her with bruising firmness. His body quivered beneath hers, the rhythmic constriction of her pleasure drawing him into that calm dark space as silence crept back.

He kept his eyes closed for a long time, letting his breathing calm again as the movement against him finally ceased. It was the sudden stark chill that opened his eyes. Blinking against the harshness of the blue glow in the cargo hold, Matt dragged a hand roughly through his hair. He grabbed the t-shirt draped over the back of the sofa, swiping his hand before dragging it across his chest.

As he sat up, Matt dropped the shirt on the deck between his bare feet. He stared at the balled up bundle of white fabric as if it held some sort of accusation. With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the couch and pulled the zip up on his suit.


	6. Stripes

**Summary:** Remy's ink stands out. It's nothing like Matt recalls seeing before and she displays it without reservation. But it's not flashy. In fact while there are shapes he can recognize, he's certain there is something more to the bold black markings than just aesthetics.

**a/n:** prompt sent in by Celesteennui: "Stripes"

**Stripes**

Matt let his eyes move over the symbols that covered Remy's arms. They weren't woven together like he had seen some sleeves done, this felt more ordered, very much like her. There was an open eye on her shoulder, as he traced the lid with his index finger the boss peeked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes moved from his face to her shoulder and back again.

"What?" Her voice was calm, almost tender as she leaned back against him.

He moved cautiously. It was much like hunting rabbits or some other skittish animal, or so he assumed, though this rabbit could devour him and spit him out whole with the barest misstep. Resting his hand on her arm, his thumb rubbed against the black ink marking her skin. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, letting them brush her skin gently as he asked, "Are these like your stripes?"

Her brow furrowed at him.

"You know? The way you show what you've done? Or proof?"

When she sat up, Matt screwed his eyes shut tight, almost certain that was the end of the conversation. But she just sat there, elbows on her knees with her hands and forearms stretched out slowly in front of her as she looked at it. Her thumb traced one of the decorative designs that looped her left wrist. "It is proof, but not what you're thinking. It's not about kills or job. It's my life-" her head turned and those steel blue eyes met his "-my story. Some of its cut into and through my body, but not everything leaves a physical scar." Her voice softened as her eyes returned to those bands on her wrist.

Matt sat up behind her, running his hand up her spine. "Will you tell me one?"

Remy looked at him quickly.

"I'd really like to hear a piece of your story," he reinforced with a kiss to her shoulder and a gentle caress down her arm. When his hand reached hers, the boss allowed Miller to lace his fingers with his, and raise them to his mouth.

"I reserve the right to decline."

He would not have been able to disguise the pleased smile that curved his mouth. He searched her arms, there were several he wondered about ones he noticed her touch absently from time to time, but Matt worried about pushing too hard too fast. The few times he had McGinnis had closed up on him like a clam. He loosed her hand turning her hand so he could view the marks on her inner arm. Finally his hand stopped; his thumb rubbing around the circle of the sign just below the bend of her left elbow.

"What's this one?"

The half smile seemed relatively relaxed as Remy turned and laid her arm out for him to view it properly. "It's the symbol for Perseus, as you probably know that was my brother's name. That's what this one is for-kind of a memorial but also in honor of him. He took care of me as best he could after my father died. Even after he got hurt Percy was still my anchor in a lot of ways."

"You two were really close?"

"Yeah," she said with a laugh. "But I'm not sure if it was by choice or necessity. We spent summers and weekends in the woods."

"All year round? Even winter?"

"Especially winter. Dad was a staunch survivalist. Dead set determined to make sure that if he taught us one thing it was how to stay alive." Her tone darkened and petered off as her eyes locked on her own thumb that was tracing over the lines. "Guess one out of two isn't a bad ratio."

Matt grabbed her arm before she stood. She glanced at it for a moment and he recognized the sharp look that completed the response he chalked up to instinctual. His other hand moved to the back of her neck. "It's an amazing ratio," he reassured as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Yeah, but your biased."

"Extremely," Matt agreed with a soft smile that melted against her soft lips.


	7. Tickled Purple

**Summary:** Matt happens upon Remy in the armory and makes an interesting discovery, which he proceeds to try and take advantage of.

**a/n:** inspired by a prompt from Kakumei: "You're ticklish"

**Tickled Purple**

The heavy bass line of the blues pulsed through the armory. The reverberation was so strong some of the cages rattled softly with the beat. The boss' head bobbed slightly at the same pace while the curve of her neck held Matt's attention completely as he stood there in the doorway. Once he finally took another step into the tiny space he moved as quietly as he could manage, which he thought paid off well for him until he found himself in a wrist lock.

"Sorry," Remy said with a little grimace as she released his hand. The stern look dissipated and softened when she smiled at him. "What are you doing here?"

As she turned back to the weapon, in a state of partial disassembly, on the table in front of her, Matt stepped behind her, setting his hands on her waist. He rested his chin against her shoulder. "What?" I can't just be looking for you?"

"It's as good a reason as any." She turned her head quickly pecking his cheek before her petite hands freed a small spring.

Miller watched her dexterous hands moved quickly and carefully over the device in front of her. When he noticed what he presumed to be a queue of weapons, he asked, "What are you doing down here?"

"General maintenance. These haven't been used for a bit," she said with a tip of her head. "So I'm giving them the once over."

"Mmm," he hummed against her shoulder, pressing his lips to that curve that had tempted him earlier. Matt found the midriff bearing racer-back tanks the boss favored equally his favorite and most hated piece of her wardrobe for the exact same reason. It was tough to keep one's imagination in check when it did not even have to be engaged.

The kisses he placed on that pale slope were light, and he took long slow breaths in an attempt to tease the sensitive skin along that lovely column of her neck. The shiver that moved through her body only encouraged him. Then Remy dropped her shoulder and leaned away from his mouth slightly, but Matt, ever vigilant, gave chase.

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning just a hair toward him.

"I'm seducing you." Matt's mouth garnered another shiver.

He could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "You do realize I'm a sure thing."

He smiled against her neck before swirling the tip of his nose in a curving pattern. The giggle caught him off guard, so he grinned and did it again, topping it off with a careful graze of teeth just behind her ear.

"Matt," she crooned, slipping out of his loose grip. Her hips and hands pressed against the edge of the table a foot or so away from where she had been standing. He could see the goose bumps on her arms, and her pert nipples strained against the tight white top. Remy blinked up at him through long lashes with a wide smile made those light blue eyes sparkle as he crept back toward her.

"You're ticklish," he said brightly, his own grin full of playfulness.

"Matthew," she replied with a note of seriousness.

He closed the distance quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist as the other cradled her head. The kiss he pressed against her mouth was hungry and urgent. When it broke he brushed his lips over hers once more before tipping her head to the side, opening that neck once more. Matt resumed his gentle teasing, savoring every shiver and the heady sound of her sultry laugh. The next time she cringed back his mouth pressed to hers again and he tipped her head the opposite direction to visit similar attentions along her jugular.

Remy's hands fisted tightly in the back of his shirt as the giggling gave way to more low sighs and tempting moans. Sucking his way along the pulse in her neck his free hand slipped beneath her shirt and rolled an excited nipple between his fingers, pulling the most delicious outcry from her throat. Her nails dug down the back of his shirt. As he combined a sharp suck with a taut tug, the boss pulled back slightly and stared up at him with a hunger that was punctuated by the clunk of her boots.

Taking advantage of the bit of separation, Matt watched her as he toyed with her other breast as well. Her hands tugged at his collar and when their lips crashed together, her tongue darted into his mouth stroking against his. When the kiss broke, he was left gulping for air as she stared up at him. Her entire body seemed to shift with the movement of her hips.

"Like I said. Sure thing," she repeated as the movement stopped and her shorts hit the ground.

A ravenous growl crawled out of Matt's chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist and placed her on the edge of the table. "And I'm going to bloody well seduce you," the agent replied dropping a deep kiss on her mouth, before heading down her neck again, earning an almost instantaneous shudder.

"Damnit, Matt," she moaned as her hands threaded in his hair.


	8. Adorkable

**Summary:** Remy comes back from a mission worn out. Matt finds a quick and playful way to relax her.

**a/n: **Written to fill a prompt from Chyrstis: Remy/Matt-Relieved

**Adorkable**

Remy felt like she was dragging. She had been under fire for hours with Gat, but once they cleared that ship all she wanted to do was come back and collapse. Her pace, slower than normal, seemed to make the trek from the bay to her quarters take twice as long. When she arrived, her eyes focused on the massive bed with the fluffy down comforter and weird pillows that seemed to always stay cool, though she did not know why. At first she did not register Matt leaning in the doorway of the bathroom.

"Do you need something, love?" he asked.

"Bed, mostly. Why?" she laughed tiredly. "What are you offering?"

"I think a hot shower could do you good."

With a shrug, she hummed in agreement as she doubled over and started untying her boots. Before she got the first one off he was helping her.

"I could run you a bath and you could just melt in the water."

"With as tired as I am, I'd probably fall asleep and drown."

He grinned at her widely. "And what makes you think I'd let you get in there alone."

"Why Agent Miller, I thought that sort of thing was against regulations?" Remy chided with a lazy smile of her own.

"So's this?" Matt leaned toward her, pressing his nose next to hers and puckering his lips trying to reach hers as she leaned back. His insistence made her giggle. Then he reached his prize. But when Remy leaned toward him to deepen the kiss he retreated enough that she quirked her head. He repeated the action several times, planting sweet, hasty, playful pecks on her lips until she could barely pucker for the wideness of her smile. His warm hands cradled her neck as he kissed her again.

"What are you doing, Matt?"

He pulled away slightly, allowing her to look him in the eye without feeling like their eyes were going to cross.

His tone was matter-of-fact, like what he was saying was the only logical answer; paired with the serious look on his face all she could do was chuckle. "I'm being … what did you call it? Adorkable?"

"You certainly are," she said, succumbing to his renewed attempt to kiss her.

The playful onslaught renewed. And every time she lurched toward him to intensify a kiss, he would counter her move perfectly.

"Are you toying with me, Miller?"

Another playful little kiss tickled against her lips with a light smack. "Definitely," he admitted, staring down into her face. "I love you, Remy."

Everything slowed. Suddenly she couldn't think. The only thing she could do was stare back at him. The words echoed in her head, her name in his curling inflection rang in her ears. Her hands covered his and she held them to her face, kissing his wrist lightly before she nuzzled it.

His smile was warm, accepting. It seemed that he understood what she was trying to impart though she could not quite bring herself to give it voice. She cared about him, more than she could remember caring about anyone. But the word love scared her. In her mind it was akin to admitting she had a weakness, and though Remy knew she had them, she did not like to admit her fragility, her vulnerabilities.

The little kisses began again, and when she giggled in response, Matt leaned toward her with a little more momentum. His lips met hers with as specific a purpose as the soft playful kisses, and he covered her body with his as he pressed her back into the down comforter.

"I liked that game," she noted when the deeper passionate kiss broke. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands pressing along his spine. "We should play it more often."

Matt grinned at her. "I can think of about three dozen places I could play that game, and all of them would drive you crazy," he noted as his mouth moved down her neck. He chased the trail of exposed flesh left as he tugged the zipper of her suit down her torso. When he pressed his lips just below her belly button, Remy guided his mouth back to hers.

"A girl can only take so much temptation before she needs a bite." The boss punctuated the admission by nipping his bottom lip.

"I think you can take more. You just don't want to."

"Same difference really."

Matt shrugged and shook his head. "I thought snipers were supposed to have all this patience and resolve."

Remy flipped their positions quickly which left Matt laughing softly as she straddled his hips and rested her body against his chest. Stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs Remy gave him a few light pecks that got them both smiling before she pressed a claiming kiss on his lips. "I wasn't trained to withstand adorkable," she muttered against his mouth.


	9. Conciliabule

**Summary: **Johnny, Dex, and Remy decide to prank Troy.

**a/n: **Written to fulfill a word prompt. Conciliabule: A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot (Johnny, Remy, & Dex), posed by Chyrstis

**Conciliabule **

The clanging rang out loudly on the stone floor and drew a chorus of hushed hisses. "Seriously, Johnny," Remy whispered a little too loudly to qualify as such. "Fucking hell, keep it in your pants son."

"Well you know," Johnny quipped.

"Can you two flirt later? Before we get caught," Dex opined from his spot above the door. He held a hand out to Johnny and groped the air. "Phillips."

Johnny felt the heads of the screw drivers in his hands. "That's the star one right?"

"For the tenth time, yes!"

"The Los Carnales," Johnny retorted in a grating tone, making Dex groan while Remy just chuckled.

Unable to not add her two cents, Remy finally broke down and added, "Rio Grande River"

"Calle Ocho Street," Johnny grunted.

"I swear to Christ, you two," Dex warned.

The pair choked back their laughter.

"You will turn this car around?" Remy asked quickly.

"Girl!"

"Boy!"

Dex groaned quietly. "Done."

"Thank God," Johnny sighed dramatically.

Dex climbed off the ladder. "No doubt. Because I was this close to stabbing you with a screwdriver."

"Aww. Twue wove," Remy said, offering her best impression of the minister from the Princess Bride.

"Hell yeah," Gat agreed, slapping Dex on the ass.

"Motherfucker!" Dex replied, rubbing his hand over the now stinging cheek. He clicked the flashlight on and they all stumbled over toward the window, managing not to set any of the mousetraps off, though they might have gotten tacks in their shoes and boots.

The piece de resistance was the camera they ran to tape the whole thing. Because being anywhere near the church when Troy walked into his office the next time would be the worst call ever.

"To tell you the truth, I really don't want to hear it," Troy called across the nave as he walked with purpose. He had managed to get to Apollo's at the perfect moment. The coffee _and_ the donuts were fresh, and they were a million times better warm. The last thing he wanted to have to think about at least for the next twenty minutes was Gat, that crazy little blonde, and whatever havoc they were creating.

He balanced his breakfast atop his first cup of coffee of the day and fought with the old lock on the heavy oak door. Then he shouldered open the door and took too many steps. The snapping started first and he placed his hand atop the balanced breakfast to keep from losing it. He noticed the whirring sound only after surveying the happily snapping traps and the fact that nearly every flat surface was covered in tacks.

"Juvenile motherfuckers," he muttered as a popping sound from above went off. An orange balloon bounced off his forehead as he looked up. Then they started exploding. The first thing to hit him was shaving cream.

But by the time he got out of the office again he was covered in things he did not even want to think hard about. He threw the cup and the little tissue-wrapped pastries at the opposite wall then wiped his hands on the shoulder of a guy walking past him. The glare he wore must have been intense because the guy looked at him like he wanted to say something but just continued on his way without a word.

He dug out his phone then headed toward the door. "Where are you?"

"Taking care of some of King's boys. Why you wanna help?" Gat taunted.

"No, I'm going to shoot you. All three of you."


	10. Werewolves, Vampires, & Clowns Oh My

**Summary: **Halloween fic

**a/n:** Written to fill a prompt from the Halloween meme prompted by Kakumei

**Werewolves, Vampires, and Clowns … Oh My!**

"Thanks again," Remy said. She turned right into her friend as Dex draped an arm over Remy's shoulder.

"We good?"

"Hell yeah. And they even had purple bracelets tonight." She pulled one off and handed it to Washington.

"Oh! It was meant to be."

She peeked over his shoulder. "Where'd you leave Gat?"

"He was talking to some little chica dressed like Daisy Duke," Dex said dismissively.

Remy chuckled darkly and slid her arm around his waist as they walked slowly. Her eyes scanned the darkness for her other friend. The waving cape of the vampire caught her eye first then Johnny stepped toward the little white-faced youngster, looming over him.

Remy swatted Dex on the chest. "You see? This, this is why I told you to stay with him." Her pace increased as the pair of them moved to intervene. "Johnny! Johnny!" The second call was more emphatic and earned her a hair of recognition as his head tipped slightly. When she reached Gat, she knew she had missed one hell of a conversation.

"Come on, Dracula. It's a valid question. Do the fangs get in the way?" Gat growled.

The kid stammered and went totally silent when Remy slipped her arm around the costumed vampire. "Ignore him, kid."

"What? It's a valid question?"

Remy offered the heavily painted kid a little shove as he escaped. "Fucking with the staff?" She shook her head at him. "You're going to get us thrown out before we even get to the zombies."

"Hey, he's the one that jumped out at me trying to be all spooky."

Dex clapped Johnny on the shoulder. "What did you say to him?"

"Asked him is his girl liked the fangs or if she made him take them out before he went down on her."

Remy just smiled while Dex roared. Gat winked at her.

The movement caught her eye before any details. The shock of whitish hair moved over Johnny's shoulder. Remy's smirk was tiny as the creepy voice started.

"You smell delicious," the new staff member said from over Gat's shoulder.

As Johnny looked left, the tall white-wigged clown glanced at Remy. "Mmm, what a lovely smile?"

Dex stumbled backward a step as Johnny pushed into him. Remy knew how much he hated clowns and this one was a special kind of creepy. He ignored Johnny and stared at the tiny blond. He had a mouth full of dark needled teeth, which he widely flashed at the young woman.

"Thank you. Yours is impressive, too," Remy replied with a calculating smirk.

His mouth widened as he came to loom over her. He was at least as tall as Johnny and as she looked up into the light eyes ringed with dark black paint, she shook her ponytail back over her shoulder as her weight shifted.

"You would make a lovely main course at our dinner this evening."

Apparently that idle threat made in an attempt to rile the girl of the group worked on at least one target. Johnny grabbed the creepy clown by the shoulder spun him and punched him.

"Oy. Motherfucker." The costumed carnie doubled over with his hands to his face as Remy and Dex, both put hands on Johnny." What's your problem?" the clown groaned as blood oozed from between his fingers.

"Fucking creepy bastard."

"It's Halloween asshole. It's supposed to be creepy." He stamped his foot as he started to straighten back up.

Johnny lunged again. The clown fell on his ass and Remy pushed her shoulder into Gat.

"Chill man," Dex grunted as he tried to hold onto his friend

"Fucking goddamn clowns," Gat grumbled, shaking Jackson and Remy off.

The clown looked up at the three of them. "Seriously, you're scared of clowns," the white and black clad character howled.

Remy wrapped her arms around Johnny's midsection, which she knew only stopped him because he was not quite ready to go through her to get to the clown. "Come on, man. Just let the clown bleed in peace," McGinnis said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

"Umm, guys," Dex noted. "We might want to take a powder on the attractions tonight." His tone caused Remy to peek around Johnny's arm.

"Fuck. He's right. Let's go."

"Hey, you can't just break someone's nose and walk away," the clown called after them.

When Johnny started to turn, Dex and Remy grabbed him tighter, while the little blonde lifted the back of her jacket enough for the metal at the small of her back to glint. Dex and Remy escorted Johnny out, but not without another grumble or two of about _fucking creepy ass goddamn clowns_.

"I hope you know you're buying dinner, dickhead," Remy told him as they climbed into her car. "Punching out clowns. Seriously, man? You know it was just some pimply-faced college kid trying to get his jollies while scaring some girl right?"

"Picked the wrong girl," Dex opined from the backseat.

"He couldn't know that. Tiny blond with two big guys to protect her-I had to be the damsel in distress, right?"

"Fuck," Johnny drawled.

"Then why'd you punch the fucker?" Dex queried with a hint of irritation.

Johnny shrugged. "Threaten to eat my friend and while fangs might not be so bad those teeth looked painful."

The three of the cackled loudly as the car started and they tore out of the parking lot.


	11. Battle Royale

**Battle Royale**

"Manny you are so full of shit," Remy crooned as the kid finished his tale about he had landed himself in a threesome in the backseat of his Ant.

"You can't even get three people in an Ant, let alone in that pocket you call a backseat," Marlon chimed.

The critique of his tale and its validity continued. When her phone vibrated, she tugged it out and was greeted by her sneering best friend. He had been so pissed when she managed to get that picture, though it did not come without some heavy sacrifices.

_[Johnny] Where are U?_

[Remy] The church. Where else would I be?

_[Johnny] _Get in the car.

[Remy] Why?

_[Johnny] _Come drink with me.

[Remy] I've got cold beer right here.

_[Johnny] So do I. But I have scotch too. And Rum._

_[Johnny] But no one's here to drink the rum._

[Remy] Trying to tempt my inner pirate?

_[Johnny] Fuck yeah._

_[Johnny] Get your ass out here. _

_[Johnny] We can get drunk and battle coyotes._

[Remy] Where the hell are you?

_[Johnny] Mount Claflin. Come on. _

[Remy] Tell me you didn't take Dex parking.

[Remy] I'm not getting in the middle of that threesome.

The response did not come immediately, and it came from another number.

_[Dex] Come on Rem someone's got to be the meat._

_[Dex] It will be like one of those marble rye sandwiches._

Remy accidentally spit a mouthful of beer all over Marlon, who shot her a glare. "Sorry man," she choked out between laughs. Her phone tucked back in her pocket she pulled out forty bucks and stuffed it in his pocket and patted his chest. "Buy yourself something nice on me."

"Where are you off too?"

"To battle coyotes."

"The fuck?" he muttered as the lithe blonde strutted out of the nave.


	12. Swing Set on Fire

**Summary: **When someone looks at Remy and Johnny it can be easy to see why they are friends. They are both fighters, a little gun happy, enjoy knives a little more than the average person. When you put either or both of them next to Dexter Jackson it is hard to see them as close as they are, even Dex sometimes finds himself wondering how a guy like him wound up with best friends like them.

**a/n: **Written to fill a prompt for the TFLN meme from Kakumei: Johnn from the OC universe of your choice with (+61): one minute he's happily playing with a lighter and the next thing I know, he's screaming and the swing set is on fire. I will warn you this one got a little dark: blood, violence, murder, and implied attempted sexual assault; marking it NSFW for that reason.

**Swing Set on Fire**

Dex dragged his hand down his face. There were moments that he really did wonder how _he_-_him_ of all people, wound up best friends with Johnny _motherfucking_ Gat and _goddamn_ Remy. Fuck all if he didn't feel like he was always the one putting out the damn fires, literally and figuratively. Remy seemed like the calm one, but she could be as full tilt crazy as Johnny in the right mood. And Johnny was twitchy as shit house rat. One minute he's happily playing with a lighter and the next thing he knew, Gat's screaming and the sing set is on fire-shit and that was when they were still in grade school.

After a deep calming breath Jackson strolled toward the current fire in need of dousing-the burning shells of a pair of cop cars. The lone life cop was staring at Remy who was twirling that butterfly knife of hers rather menacingly while Johnny paced a line a few feet behind her. Dex really didn't even want to know what the hell went down. He just knew he needed to get his friends out of there.

When he touched Johnny's shoulder, the fist caught him square in the cheek. "Fuck, man," he croaked, stomping his foot once as he cradled his face.

"Help me, please," the cop called weakly. It earned him a swat that left him whimpering.

The response made Dex wonder just what the two of them had done to this cop before he got there.

"Sorry, man," Johnny grumbled lowly. He patted Jackson on the shoulder.

"Kill him, if you're gonna kill him. But we need to go," Dex said, his voice was thick with concern. "As it is your psychos are lucky there's not more of these bastards here."

"No, they didn't come to arrest us? Did you?" Remy explained. Even Dex's eyes were locked on the blade that she circled inches from the officer's face. The berry shivered, wide-eyed as the petite blond moved the blade. "So were you just out looking for some bangers to shake down? Or what?"

"Does it matter?"

Remy grabbed the man's hand, and pierced the tip of his finger with the deathly sharp blade. "You tell me. See your pig buddies over there died quick and easy. I didn't get the chance to talk to them, but, see, you might be bleeding, but you'll live long enough to beg unless you tell me what the fuck you bastards were doing rolling up on us like that." She rubbed his finger over his face, the blood tracking over and down his cheek.

"We don't have time for this," Dex barked not sure if he was pissed at her or scared out of his mind.

Johnny had told him that some fucked up shit went down while she was gone, but this was a side of Remy McGinnis he didn't know existed, ever.

"Dawkins said he knew you. Knew your boy Ian, who gave you rave reviews," the cop said slowly.

The black of the blade starkly contrasted the pale officer's skin. "Oh well, aren't you guys just the shining example of Stilwater's Finest. So you were what? Looking for handouts? Or did you at least plan on tipping after your little train ride?" The last bit came out in a growl.

The motion was minimal-quick. The officer's eyes widened and he gasped. Remy jerked her hand back and swiped the blade on the cop's sleeve. When she stood, she spit on him. It was a sentiment Dex understood. Gat didn't say anything, just put his hand on the back of McGinnis' neck and walked with her.

Dex caught up to them after a moment of watching the officer gasp, looking like a fish out of water. He was pretty sure the cause, not that it mattered. _That kind of trash deserved worse than what he got, _Jackson thought as he mirrored Remy's last action not giving a damn about either of their DNA being found on that trash.

"Hey girl," Jackson said quietly. He rested he hand between her shoulder blades. "You good?"

Stone-faced her gaze didn't waver, but she didn't say anything either. Her climbing into the backseat shook him too, she never voluntarily rode in the back. The flipping of the blade started before he even rounded the car. It was a sound he knew well, she and Johnny both favored that type of weapon and were proficient tricksters. But then there were times like this when that noise became the most ominous one he could ever remember hearing.

Overall, her reaction worried him. Though he had not been there to help in the moment, he had a plan for the aftermath. As they sat at the red light he shot off a text to one of his best guys. If Ian was still skulking around town, Jackie could find him. Then perhaps he and Johnny might just swing by and see the clever mick before he could skip town.


	13. Always Look Before You Leap

**Summary: **Sometimes things don't quite go as planned. Especially when your lover decides to be helpful and totally ruins the system that lies beneath what could look like chaos to someone else.

**a/n: **Written to fill a prompt given by AntivanBrandy: 8. You need to keep track of these things. Matt/Remy

**Always Look Before You Leap**

Matt looked over at her as she pulled open drawer after drawer. A few of them clattered to the ground, only spilling out a few of their contents as bounced off the ground. Remy would shuffle through the items quickly in search of her illusive prey.

"You need to keep track of these things," he grumped weakly, pulling at his wrists again despite the futility of it.

"I had them all in that silver dish on the nightstand," she replied with a look over her shoulder at him. "Which _someone _decided to ... what was it ... clean out for me."

"It was tarnished. I was trying to help," he explained just as sharply. He didn't know if it was his tone, her frustration at the misplacement of the key, both, or something entirely different, but in the next moment her lips were on his. Her warm body pressed against his chest as her thumbs swept over his cheekbones.

"I know." Her nose nudged his and she kissed him again. "I'm sorry. About snapping and about not making sure I had the keys first."

Her body felt amazing, so much so that in a matter of a few kisses he was completely relaxed again and no longer cared that neither of them knew where the key might even be. Ultimately it was his fault, at least in his opinion. He'd emptied the dish full of keys, and for the life of him he couldn't remember what he done with them.

"I'm sorry too. I should have remembered to put them some place obvious."

Her lips teased against his, her tongue darting into his mouth. As she pulled away she nipped at his bottom lip then sucked at it sharply, drawing a moan from him. "I think Johnny has a pick set. I'll be right back."

"Wait. Wait. Wait," he protested as she shifted off of him.

"Two minutes." Her soft laugh played havoc on him, along with the clever shift in her hips. "You can't wait two minutes."

"It's not a matter of can't. More like would prefer not to." He could feel the trace of heat brightening his cheeks but the tenderness in her smile tamped down on the butterflies that fluttered for a moment.

Remy leaned against him again, her lips brushing his. "Me, too. But you know what I like even more?"

"Tell me," he breathed.

"Your dexterous hands," she whispered in his ear. She smiled at him softly then shimmied up his body. She placed soft little kisses on his fingertips, but he did not notice, because her shift placed her breasts in tempting proximity. When her tongue teased at his index finger, he repaid her action with a sharp suck of his own and the gentle grazing of teeth. Her hands in his hair only encouraged him. "Fuck." It came on a breathy sigh that made him grin with a trace of pride.

"Two minutes," she growled, kissing him hungrily again.

Matt gritted his teeth as she stalked across the room like a woman on a mission. "Robe!" he yelled before she reached the door. There was zero doubt in his mind that she would have gone on her hunt for a lock pick without a stitch of clothes if he hadn't said something. Even so, Remy just grabbed the first thing she found-one of his t-shirts that fit her like a dress.

With a laugh he leaned back against the pillows still rather wishing she had not opted to free him first. This little wait would have been so much less nerve wracking if he was coming down rather than laying there with a pulsing erection. But one thing always seemed to be true about Remy McGinnis, she was determined. The realization that her current determination was to have him touch her brought a heady grin to his lips.


	14. Tiny Traditions

**Summary: **Matt always adored Christmas, so finding him going all out decorating his own space on the ship is not really much of a surprise.

**a/n: **Written to fill a Seasonal Prompt sent by Chyrstis: Remy/Matt - 15. Their take on the tradition of mistletoe.

**Tiny Traditions**

Things were different since Zinyak's death, but the question still loomed large in her head. _Where do we go after all this? _Remy never excelled at politics; that always felt like Ben and Pierce's cups of tea. But things needed to be stabilized before any decisions were finalized.

A quick check on her phone and despite the late hour the boss knew right where to go. Although it really was not much of a shock that Matt was in his lab. He really enjoyed having a place that was all his own. Kinzie had her Sanctum and Matt had his Dungeon; though for a dungeon it could actually be surprisingly bright. Within minutes of checking his location, Remy entered his personal domain, making a beeline for the large sofa not far from his desk. She dropped onto the sofa, laying back and cradling her head in her hands as she peeked up at him.

"What are you doing?" Remy asked.

Matt reached toward the ceiling. "Decorating," he said, gesturing to the strands of garland, tinsel, and lights that draped from any place he could string them. Then he tied a small red ribbon to the garland.

"What. Is. That?" She annunciated each word carefully as her eyes locked on the tiny green leaves and small white berries.

Matt finished his bow, then leaned on the ladder and pointed above her. "You mean that?"

"You cheeky little rogue."

He just canted his head then climbed down the ladder. "It's Mistletoe, but then I'm fairly sure you know that."

Remy was still staring at the sprig hanging above her. "So do you at least abide by the original English custom? Plucking a berry before you can kiss a person. No more berries. No more kissing."

"That's no fun at all," Miller countered as he sat on the sofa next to her and brushed her hair off her shoulder, letting his fingers brush along the column of her neck.

Remy shrugged and leaned toward him. "Just means you'll need to find more sprigs."

"Actually-" he looked up at the sprig above them "-since you can't reach them I think I'm set." His fingertips grazed her jaw as he leaned toward him. He smiled softly as she met him halfway. Their lips brushed softly at first; the kiss deepened when his hand slipped behind her neck.

"You know it's supposed to bring good luck and ward off evil spirits as well as being used as a sign of love and friendship," Remy told him between tender, lingering pecks.

"How do you know so much about mistletoe?"

"You know me. I like to read."

"You certainly do. So then, love." Matt smiled as she kissed him repeatedly. "Perhaps I should put up some extra, for more than just the fringe benefits," he chided.

The bright giggle brought a smile to his lips when Remy embraced him snugly. "Maybe so. It's always good to cover all your bases."


End file.
